Throughout the Years
by seeleybooths
Summary: It wasn't love at first sight—but it turned into so much more than they ever could have imagined. A look into Chandler and Monica's evolving relationship.


**Ok, I wrote this such a long time ago and never posted it. So I thought to myself, "The hell with it" and here we are now. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

It was not love at first sight.

It was tight words and untouched skin and one over-eager smile and one avoidable frown. It was obvious that he wanted to be left alone, but she continued to press on, one bowl of mac and cheese at a time. The attraction was immediate from her point of view. He was all awkward and nineteen with the enticement of college still at the brim of his blue eyes. His hair was untamed in its waves of brown and jokes lived at the tip of his tongue as every other sentence came in the form of sarcastic remarks. Her parents found it a step down from annoying; she thought his humor was something endearing. To say she was smitten was an understatement.

Alas, Thanksgiving came and went as the boy who hated turkey went back to college and left a broken-hearted girl who no longer had a piece of food in hand. He called her _fat._ Out of everything he could have called her, he demoted her down to the word that made her nauseous. She _knew_ she was, but she did not need him telling her that.

The pumpkin pie did not look so appetizing anymore. Nor did those mashed potatoes. She told herself she did not have to change for him. He was nothing more than a guy who probably hit on any girl he saw (she only learned later that he always got shot down, something she could never quite understand). But the taste of redemption and shoving it in his face was too sweet.

Flash forward to a year later and he was practically on his knees for her. His cobalt eyes watched her in awe and his normal sarcasm got all choked up in his incoherent thoughts.

The now slim girl wrapped up in a skin-tight black dress believed it would make her feel better. It didn't. Sure, he looked at her in wide admiration. But it was only for her body. Was that all she meant to him?

The boy left again that day and she did not care.

* * *

He was no longer just the boy anymore. The boy who was her brother's college roommate and cracked jokes on a whim and hated practically every holiday.

He was her neighbor across the hall.

And her best friend.

She spent many of her days tangled up with him in their favorite loveseat. It wasn't romantic; it was just them being _them._ The other four of their friend group never even gave it a second glance. To see the two of them together all close and laughing was nothing out of the ordinary.

They were best friends and that's what best friends did.

Probably.

It was impossible to not be so close to him. He loved telling her the best of stories, ones that kept her clinging onto his sweatshirt that was one size too big. His smile was always so wide, the kind of smile that could take the place of all the stars in the sky. He watched her in amusement as she let out a gasp. The awe in his eyes was still there, but it wasn't for her body. It was for her. Everything was for her.

She kept him on the tips of his toes too. She was his main support system in all of his relationships. Setting him up with girls, helping him through the heartbreak of not being loved back, suggesting places for an ideal date, giving him a knowing nod when he was too speechless to say _she said yes! We're going out tonight!_

Their friendship was invaluable. The days of their college and high school selves were forgotten for the most part. They shared no gap, whether it be physically and mentally. They always seemed to be together. Talking, laughing, sharing, suggesting, helping.

It was them.

* * *

He was no longer just her best friend.

He was her boyfriend.

They made the daunting switch from being friends to being in a relationship with no scratches and bruises, just two happier people. It was exciting: sneaking out and kissing in secret and trying to steal some not so innocent glances around their friends. Eventually, they got outed and everyone was faced with the disgustingly in love version of the duo. Their friends grimaced while they continued to whisper senseless I love yous into each other's ears.

Life suddenly seemed to revolve around him. The taste of his lips, the interlocking of his hand with hers, the flex of his back under the press of her fingertips. Maybe people really were made out of the stars because he was her galaxy.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," she mumbled into his chest. His heart was a comforting beat, a rhythmic version of home.

"But what if I get hungry?" Another remark from him, another groan from her.

"Forever minus a few days," she sighed out, her eyes shutting. Warmth radiated from his worn out NYU tee, the smell of coffee and spicy aftershave enveloping her body.

"This, however," he wrapped his arms around her even tighter, "is an always." She felt him smile against the back of her head. The commitment issues that plagued his mind dissipated into the night. This was the real him: the boy who fell in love and held onto the bleak idea of an impossible forever. But this was them _._ Impossibility did not exist.

"I love you." The words still left a thrill a minute on her tongue. She had loved men before him, but this was different. It was familiar and yet electrifying at once. He made her feel like she was sixteen with him kissing her long and hard before first period, leaving her blushing and him smirking. Did his other girlfriends never feel this way? Because if they did, how could they leave someone who was synonymous to oxygen? Someone so kind and caring with a touch that made her feel alive.

But she could hardly care. He was not theirs. He was hers.

"I love you too." He said it so casually. He never said anything casually. It was usually rambles and hidden jokes and thoughts of rejection. But not this.

 _This._ The late nights with her in his arms; early mornings of making pancakes and hugs from behind; bumping elbows as they crammed themselves into the same seat; conversations about how one another's day was; kissing each other for a second too long when their friends were around.

It was everything.

* * *

She was the first one to drop down on one knee.

But she couldn't finish her words because she loved him so much and the tears caught up with her thoughts and he had to finish her broken sentences. She did not mind though; his words were beautiful. They were all about how he wanted to make her happy because she made him happy. He cried too. He held her so close when she said yes. She wishes she could say yes a hundred more times.

They were best friends. They were in love. They were engaged to be married.

Engaged life was nothing different besides the chaos of wedding planning. She had most of the ideas: location, color palette, flowers. He sat there and smiled. This was her element and he didn't care to interfere. Everything he wanted was sitting right there next to him with a ring symbolizing their new life together. Giving her the night of her dreams was the least he could do.

Him just being there was exactly what she needed. He was her rock through his. Kept her head straight and made her realize the true importance of it all. _Yes,_ their wedding was going to be a spectacular celebration but _no,_ she did not need everything that ten-year-old her believed. The day inevitably would end; their marriage, however, would be just beginning. No six-tier wedding cake or expensive dress or centerpiece could change that.

It was like they were running on New York City time. Everything was happening so fast. The countdown clock until their wedding day tick, tick, ticked. Finding a maid of honor, a best man, a minister, even finalizing a guest list.

Their friends were probably waiting for a big blowout in the relationship… a _fight._ But this was them. The two of them could practically count how many times they had ever fought on a single hand. They were the type to talk it out (or forget about words altogether in a frenzied clash of lips and fumbling hands) and find a compromise. Their friends would tease them and say that the duo had basically been a married couple from the start, and by a married couple, they meant boring and overly affectionate. Sorry to disappoint everyone but breaks never were apart of their vocabulary.

"Can you believe that in just one week," he rested his hands on her shoulders, "we will be married?"

She smiled. She was usually the one who brought up the weekly countdown until their wedding but as the day grew closer, he seemed to embrace the wildness of it all.

"I can." She gripped onto his left hand. "I always knew we would end up here. I think I have since you said 'I love you' to me for the first time. It could have been sooner, it could have been later, but I knew this would happen. Something was different with you than with all of the other guys I dated. It's probably because you're my best friend."

His blue eyes flashed something fierce and he pulled her up from her chair, dragging her towards their bedroom. Who says the honeymoon phase can't start a week early?

* * *

She loved being married. Being married to him _._ She loved throwing around the word "my husband". It was even better when he called her "my wife". No melody could match the sound of it.

Marriage took nothing out of their relationship. They still joked around like best friends and treated each other to impromptu dates and snuck in friendly pecks on lips whenever they could. It only made the two of them all that much stronger. They loved each other more than anything in the world. Their friends envied them, their families found it endearing, strangers smiled in their direction. They were a walking romance novel, one high five at a time.

He loved waking up to her and watching the sun catch the gold of her wedding band. He would lean over the kiss the tiredness off of her lips as she stirred and greeted him with the widest of smiles. He couldn't believe how happy he made her. Her eyes were so blue and her words were so warm and he wished everyone could find someone as incredible as her.

But he knew no one ever could.

It was 8 a.m and their friends would be over soon to have breakfast. For now, though, apartment 20 was a quiet hum in comparison to the clamorous city. The husband and wife grinned at each other. It was a comforting silence: fingers interviewed, noses almost touching, eyes bright.

He loosened himself from her grip and slowly began to get up, the white sheets slipping off his body.

"What are you doing?" She asked, laughing, as he crawled on top of her, his knees around her legs.

"Morning, babe," he whispered against her lips before closing the gap. Her fingers found his hair and she pulled him down even further, the kiss deepening.

"Wow, if this is how I'm going to be woken up every day," she said, breaking the kiss, "then I hope I never have to leave this bedroom again."

His eyebrows quirked. "I can make arrangements for that."

"You dork," she huffed out from under the press of his lips.

"Come on, you love me."

"Obviously."

She gripped onto his white tee, a smile never quite leaving her lips until their morning makeout session was interrupted by the padding of feet in their kitchen.

"Why try to have a kid when we practically have four of them already?" He joked as he tried to fix his mussed hair.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't pretend you don't want to be a dad."

He pressed a lingering kiss onto her upturned mouth. "Not when you put it that way, _mom_."

After a few seconds, she pulled herself back and dragged him out of their bedroom by hand, knowing well enough he would stay in there all day if he could. She could feel smiling against the back of her head as they stood in their kitchen and watched their friends mull about, making their breakfasts. His arms rested around her waist, and she played with his wedding band.

She loved being married.

* * *

Mom and Dad.

That's what their friends jokingly called them.

After a year of trying, a week of tears and "We don't deserve this", and months of waiting, the husband and wife now had the family they dreamed of. They got even more than that; they got _twins._ A boy and a girl with blue eyes and pink cheeks and little fingers that loved to wrap around their parents' fingers.

He remembered when he was afraid to have kids; now he couldn't imagine it any other way. He had never seen his wife so happy. She was destined to be a mother. Her attentiveness and willingness to wake up at 2 a.m. to soothe her infants' cries left him smiling into his pillow. He never thought he could love his wife anymore, but the sight of her holding their baby boy changed his mind.

She always knew he was going to make a great father. She could never understand how he doubted himself because there he was with his son and daughter asleep on his chest as he dozed off too. There was a newfound kindness to New York, a softness. Light breaths and tired curiosity and wisps of hair and warm rumbles. A father and his children. Past fear replaced by a protective hold onto his new world. Home never felt so cozy.

She leaned over and dropped a kiss onto her husband's forehead. He lightly stirred, his mouth set into a small smile. He looked down at his babies. _His_ babies. They were all his.

And his wife's too, of course.

"Hi," she whispered, crawling into bed next to him. She ran her thumb softly over her son's forehead.

"Hi." He couldn't stop smiling. Life was… perfect. That's what it was. Perfect.

"Did you have a good day?" She kissed him again, on the mouth this time.

"Mhmm," he murmured, "a very good day. We read some books, played with their favorite stuffed animals, had a lot of snacks. I think I tuckered them out."

"More like they tuckered you out," she laughed.

"Yeah, but I don't mind. It's a good kind of tired."

"Even when they wake us up at two in the morning?"

"Even at two in the morning."

She smiled in agreement and let her head fall to his shoulder. The twins continued to dream on, cuddling into the warmth of their father's cotton shirt. He pressed a kiss to her head, and both parents let their eyelids droop. A sense of serenity floated across their bedroom in its most comforting form.

They always dreamed of this, whether they expected it to happen this way or not. No former relationships or fears of dying alone or heartbreaking news could take this away from them. Late nights of tearful revelations and tight hugs were mere stepping stones.

This day, this time, this seemingly unspectacular event of a husband and wife fast asleep with their children in their arms. It was something of fate, some type of meant to be.

He, in particular, was never aware of his perfect forever. He thought he was too screwed up to have this life. His jokes and self-consciousness were supposed to his lifelong companions.

She thought she had it all at one point. But that boyfriend didn't want kids. And the next boyfriend didn't fight for her heart but in an arena instead. She wasn't going to get married like her mother always said. It was inevitable.

But it wasn't.

Both screwups turned to their best friend for comfort and found a story instead. A story of friendship and falling in love and proposing and walking down the aisle and starting a family and finding a life that they didn't think was possible.

Strangers. Best friends. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Fiancées. Husband and wife. Mom and dad.

What a story indeed.


End file.
